Grover In A Teacher's Meeting
by Kitty Qin
Summary: Exactly What It Says On The Tin. Grover Underwood just became a teacher in the school/asylum known as Goode High School. Crack Fic.


Grover in A Teacher's Meeting

Summary: Exactly What It Says On The Tin. Grover Underwood just became a teacher in the school/asylum known as Goode High School. Crack Fic.

**A/N: So... this is my newest story! Anyway, if you've read any of my previous stories, you know that I have a habit of not updating that often. Read: I right one chapter and abandon them. But I swear, swear that this is not going to happen here. I've already written most of the chapters and I'll add a new one each week. BTW, this fic was written with one of my friends so if you're wondering why it seems a lot more random... yeah that's why. I tried to keep the characters as IC as I could though.**

**Also don't worry, it gets a lot less random towards the end.**

**(****Quick note, I actually have no idea what teachers actually do in their meetings. This is just what I think they might do. In my imagination, though. And my imagination is a pretty messed up place.**

**Anyway, teachers (probably) don't act like this, but it makes a pretty funny story.**

**Edit: This used to be part of a story called High School (Never Ends). But now its just this chapter. The other chapters (that I posted) were pretty bad but you guys seemed to like this one so I just left this.**

**I'm going to add a cover picture that I made soon.**

* * *

Grover clumped to the Faculty Room. Schist. He was going to be late to his first teacher's meeting!

He slammed opened the door, "GROVER UNDERWOOD, REPORTING FOR DUTY!" he shouted.

The other teachers stared in shock at their newest addition. The principal froze in the middle of his speech. Paul Blofis face-palmed.

Grover lost his enthusiasm. Did he say something wrong? Gleeson Hedge told him to always say that when coming to important meetings like this.

Ugh. Grover should have known better than to listen to that old satyr.

"Sorry, can we try this again? Excuse me," Grover apologized.

The satyr walked back out the room, closing the door. He waited five seconds before reopening the door, adjusting his tie.

"Good morning, fellow staff members of Goode High School-"

"It's evening," cut in an old lady.

"Shut up, old lady!" Grover snapped.

The lady glared, indignant.

"Excuse you, _young man_, but I am the Vice Principal."

Grover paled. He stuttered out an apology, "_Baaah_, schist, I-I'm so soo sorry."

The principal cleared his throat.

"Well, then. Now that we're all here, let's continue on from our last meeting. Mr. Science Teacher? You were requesting space and supplies for a science lab?"

"I have a name," protested Mr. Science Teacher.

The principal leaned forward, "Forgive me, what was it?"

"It was Harri-" Mr. Science Teacher began.

The principal interrupted him.

"Ah does it matter? To me, all of your names are the subject you teach," reasoned Mr. Principal. He gave a pitying look to one of the teachers. "I'm terribly sorry Ms. Math. I was being insensitive. I just remembered that you don't actually have a name."

Ms. Math looked down sadly.

"Did you have to remind me?" she whimpered.

Mr. Principal laughed hilariously for a few minutes. When he was done, he said, "As I was saying, Mr. Music, please take a seat next to Mr. Toilet over there." Mr. Principal pointed to a little stool in the corner.

Grover looked at him, completely and utterly confused. Then he realized that Mr. Principal was talking to him. He plodded over to the little stool and sat down.

Mr. Toilet raised his hand. "But I teach Social Studies!" he exclaimed.

Mr. Principal waved his hand at Mr. Toilet, "Hey, I can't remember everything. Honestly, half of you guys are named after things people find in the bathroom. What? Don't look at me like that! You think I got time for names?" Mr. Toilet looked away, chastened.

Paul -sorry, Mr. English- gave a look to Grover, like, _You think Camp-Half Blood is bad? Do you see what I have to go through every day?_

"Can we get back to my new lab now?" Mr. Science demanded, "We always get so off track. I've been asking after this lab for three years! Three! Years!"

Mr. Principal slammed his hand down on the desk, knocking down everything.

"Well, stop asking then! We're broke! We're already making the students bring in their own lunches, and now you want a new lab?"

"The kids like bringing their own lunches," Percy's stepdad muttered under his breath, "The old school lunch sucked."

Mr. Principal trained his eyes on his newest teacher.

"Care to repeat that, Mr. English?" he barked.

Paul opened his mouth to argue.

"Where's all this money that we're earning going to?" interrupted Grover innocently.

"Well, haha, now that you've asked," Mr. Principal beamed, flattered, "It goes to my savings account. I'm getting a new computer."

"A new computer! Are you kidding me?" shouted Mr. Science, "What do you want a new computer for? Aren't your Macbooks, iMacs, Samsung Galaxy tablet, iPad, iPad mini, iPod Touch, iPod nano, Nook, Kindle Fire, Apple TV, Chromebook, and ten phones enough already?"

"No...no, not at all," Mr. Principal said, smiling, "I have to agree with you though, Mr. Science. We're getting off topic. We have to improve the quality of the school. I mean, I love being the center of attention and I do deserve it, but the school is supposed to be more important."

"So Mr. Science is getting a lab?" Mr. English asked, bemused.

"Ms. Soap Bar! This school is not about the labs. It's about the students!" Mr. Principal declared, "And I have many plans for improvement. For starters, I'm thinking about converting our Smart-Boards back into chalkboards. This will save more electricity."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" cried Paul.

"Don't be unreasonable, Ms. Soap Bar," snapped Mr. Principal.

"And stop calling me that! I'm the English teacher, not a soap bar! More importantly, I'm a man!" Ms. Soap Bar protested.

Soon, everyone was shouting at each other.

"I want a science lab!"

"I want to use our real names!"

"I don't have a real name!"

"I'm not old!"

"You're a horrible principal!"

"You're a sucky teacher!"

"83 is perfectly young!"

"What kind of adult says 'sucky'?"

"Maybe you should run this school since you know so much!"

"Ohh, so you're agreeing with us. That's nice to know," Paul Blofis/Mr. English/Ms. Soap Bar shot back.

The satyr had had enough. Grover blew on his pipes. Peace and calm, reminiscent of the seconds between sleep and awakening, wove through the room, bringing out the teachers' deepest secrets.

"I-I'v had a secret crush on you for two years," Ms. Math told Mr. Toilet/Mr. Social Studies.

"Pink is my favorite color," Mr. Science confessed.

"I'm not actually 83. I'm 103," confided Ms. Vice Principal.

"When no one is around I watch My Little Pony," Mr. Principal admitted.

"My step-son is half-Greek god," declared Mr. English.

The teachers snapped out of their trance.

"WHAT?" they demanded in unison.

"Uh...nothing," Mr. English stuttered.

"No, repeat what you just said," said Mr. Principal, suspicious.

"Grover?" whispered Mr. English desperately.

Grover played a few notes of Paparazzi. When he was done, he snapped his fingers. A blast of wind rushed through the room.

"None of you heard what Mr. English just said," he paused, considering. "You will also remove Mr. Principal as principal and replace him with Mr. English. I mean, Paul Blofis. Speaking of which, you can now use your real names."

Ms. Math frowned. "I don't have a real name," she pointed out.

Grover contemplated this. "Your real name is Rihanna," he decided.

"Last name?"

"No clue. Make one up."

Rihanna considered this.

"Rihanna Math it is," she agreed.

Meanwhile, the teachers had thrown Mr. Principal out of the room.

"Down with tyranny!"

"I feel young again!"

"You too, Ms. Vice Principal?"

"My name is Jane Smith!"

"What the hell? People actually use that as a name?"

"I want a science lab!"

"Long live Principal Blofis!"

Grover slowly crept out of the room.


End file.
